“The airport, I’d say. She must be catching a plane somewhere.”
“Then let’s fly…” Fangs spun the car 180 degrees and roared away towards the airport, tyres squealing.
Friday 0032 hours: MP1 Private Jet, 30,000 feet
My boss levelled the jet out at cruising height. “I’ve always liked the south of France at this time of year,” he said.
Before we’d taken off, I’d hacked into the airport’s passenger records for that day’s travel. Miss Milly O’Naire had booked onto flight AF2811 to Nice, with an additional helicopter ride on to Monaco.
“Are you sure Milly didn’t recognize your name? We don’t want to walk into a trap.”
“It’s a risk we’ll have to take,” said Fangs, setting the autopilot – and making sure he got it right this time. “Are you still tracking her phone?”
I shook my head. “She switched it off when she boarded her plane, but I managed to download everything in its memory before she did. And I found this.” I moved the mouse over my laptop screen to a file named TO BE SENT TO EVERY GOVERNMENT IN THE WORLD! and double clicked. Shaky footage began to play. It had clearly been recorded on the phone’s camera. A familiar figure stepped into view.
“The Great Disgusto!” exclaimed Fangs.
As we watched, the Great Disgusto turned to the camera. “Are you filming now?” he asked.
“Of course I am,” snapped the voice of Milly O’Naire.
“All right,” said Disgusto, smoothing down his tattered wizard’s robes. He then addressed the camera directly. “Governments of the world – pay close attention. Laid out before me, you will see the ingredients for my latest invention.” The camera panned down to reveal a bowl of brownish powder with a fuse wire coming out of it. “I have discovered a rare compound that, when mixed with wizard DNA at high temperatures, will produce pure gold.”
“That’s … incredible.” Milly gasped, off-screen.
“It is, indeed.” Disgusto beamed. “I shall use this powder to turn all of my teeth gold, and I will then have them removed to sell on the black market…”
“That explains why he’s been hanging around with a backstreet dentist like Nicolas Sizer,” Fangs said.
“And why we found a gold-trading magazine in Sizer’s waiting room,” I added.
The Great Disgusto was still raving at the camera. “…But I don’t just want to be rich. I want to be filthy, stinking rich! I want to have more money than I know what to do with. And so, with the profits from selling my teeth, I shall buy a missile to fire at one of your parliament buildings. But only after you EACH pay me a million dollars will I reveal which government is the target. That government may then attempt to bribe me into changing my mind. I can’t lose!”
Milly zoomed in as the Great Disgusto lit the fuse that led to the bowl of powder. He bent forward and bared his teeth. The fuse burned shorter and shorter, the sparking flame scorching the tabletop as it rushed towards the powder. Disgusto closed his eyes. His whole body was trembling as he pulled his lips back from his teeth with his fingers…
Then the doorbell to his laboratory rang.
The Great Disgusto spun round angrily. “Who on earth is that at this time of—”
KABOOM!
The flash powder exploded, showering Disgusto’s bottom in a fine, glittery mist.
Disgusto screamed and hopped around the lab, clutching his burned behind. I notched up the volume on the laptop. Milly was giggling behind the camera.
“That was the last of my powder!” shouted the Great Disgusto. “I can’t afford any more! How can I sell my teeth if they aren’t made of gold? How can I buy a missile if I can’t sell my teeth?” He slumped down onto a stool and a metallic CLANG! rang out.
At the sound, Disgusto stood up again slowly and unfastened his trousers. He turned round. As he pulled the waistband down at the back, Fangs and I got a glimpse of a golden buttock. Milly O’Naire screamed, and the video cut off.
“So his bottom is solid gold,” said Fangs.
“Although that still doesn’t explain how he can gas people with it.”
The GPS software began to beep. “We’re almost in Monaco,” I said.
“We’d better get changed into something more suitable,” Fangs said. He was right. There was no way we’d be able to mingle with the rich and famous of the French Riviera dressed like this.
I closed my laptop and unclipped my utility belt – and something soft fell onto my foot. It was a tiny baseball cap. “Hip Hop’s hat,” I said, picking it up. “It must have got caught in my belt when I threw him aside to chase the Great Disgusto.”
“Not much use to us now,” said Fangs. “Unless we have to dress some dolls as part of this case.”
“I suppose not,” I agreed. “Wait. The lining of the cap’s all sticky – like it’s covered in honey.”
Fangs smiled. “Sounds like you’ve made a beeline to another clue!”
Friday 0205 hours: Monte Carlo Casino, Monaco
Fangs pulled the MP1 stretch limo up to the front of the casino and handed the keys to the parking attendant with the order: “Replenish the milk bar!”
We mounted the casino steps, looking every bit like wealthy gamblers. Fangs wore a tuxedo and I was in a black, sequined dress.
“I found out what that sticky substance was on Hip Hop’s cap,” I whispered.
“Honey?” asked Fangs.
“It wasn’t honey. It was sap. Sap from Jatropha curcas, a plant that grows in the Philippines. It’s also known as the tuba-tuba plant and it’s incredibly toxic.”
“So what was Hip Hop doing with it?”
“Beats me. Coupled with the mushroom grains we found on Zed, it’s got the capacity to make someone very ill indeed.”
“The question,” said Fangs, “is who?”
A casino manager, wearing a blazer with the company logo on the breast pocket, stepped forward to greet us. “Good evening, Monsieur Enigma, Mademoiselle Brown – your table is waiting. Please come this way.”
“We’re expected,” I hissed. “Milly must have known who you are. The business card was a trap after all.”
“Let’s see what else is waiting for us,” said Fangs with a snarl.
We followed the manager through the bustling casino, past slot machines and roulette wheels, until we reached a card table covered in baize. Two further employees held chairs out for us, and a barmaid placed drinks in front of us: a blood milkshake for Fangs and an orange juice for me.
“This is all very pleasant.” Fangs smiled.
“Don’t speak too soon,” I said. Approaching the table were the Great Disgusto and Milly O’Naire.
“Agent Enigma,” said Disgusto. “So pleased you could join us. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist following my little clue.” He pulled Milly’s chair out for her and then sat down himself, his bottom making a faint metallic Ding!
Milly looked gorgeous in a stunning white dress. I crossed my claws in the hope that Fangs would be able to stay focused.
The barmaid reappeared, with a glass of champagne for Milly, and a bottle of milk and a glass for the Great Disgusto. Fangs licked his lips at the sight of the white liquid. “A man with good taste, I see,” he said.
“I doubt very much whether this would be your kind of tipple,” said Disgusto, opening the bottle. A foul stench wafted across the table. The milk was off! Rancid lumps of the stuff slopped into the glass as the wizard poured it out.
“That milk may be slightly past its sell-by date,” Fangs suggested.
“The further past it, the better!” Disgusto reached into his jacket pocket and produced two silver boxes. From the first, he sprinkled small brown granules into the sour milk.
“Tigertop mushroom!” I gasped.
“I see you’ve done your homework, Miss Brown,” said the Great Disgusto with a smile. “Then you should also have worked out that this box contains tuba-tuba sap.” He drizzled a little of the sticky liquid into his drink and then stirred
it all together. The mixture turned dark green and began to fizz.
“I presume you’re not here to display your cocktail-making skills,” said Fangs.
“Oh no,” said Disgusto. “My stomach agitator is just a guilty pleasure. We are here to play!” He downed his drink in one go. “What do you say, Enigma? Shall we make this game a little more … interesting?”
“In what way?”
“A little wager, perhaps?” The Great Disgusto reached inside his jacket pocket again and this time pulled out two diamond earrings and a pair of sunglasses.
“Those are mine!” growled Fangs. “The sunglasses, I mean – not the earrings.”
“The earrings match the description of those stolen from the prime minister’s wife at the British Embassy,” I said.
“Finders keepers…” teased Disgusto.
“I’d rather play for information,” snarled Fangs. “How about you tell us of your plans to blow up a parliament building.”
A smile spread across Disgusto’s foul face. “You’ve watched my video? All right. If you win our little game, I’ll tell you everything.”
Fangs remained stern. “And give me back my sunglasses?”
“Of course! But what if I win? What are you putting down as your stake?”
My boss nodded at me. MP1 provides all its agents with a large amount of spending money for use in situations like this. I opened my purse and laid a thick wodge of banknotes on the table. “Is three thousand euros enough?”
Disgusto nodded. “Let’s play…”
Milly kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck, honey.”
“I don’t need luck,” the Great Disgusto said as a casino employee began to deal out the cards. “This is a game of skill and tactics, and I’m a world master.”
He picked up his cards and studied them. His face was set like stone and his eyes revealed no emotion at all. Eventually, he chose a card and placed it face up on the table. It featured a picture of a round, jolly woman wearing an apron and carrying a rolling pin. “Do you have Mr Bun the baker?”
Fangs glanced down at his own cards. “No.”
The corner of Disgusto’s mouth twitched.
My boss pulled out a card from his hand and slapped it down on the table. It showed a little boy lying back in a chair with his mouth wide open. “Do you have Mr Drill the dentist?”
The Great Disgusto’s face split into a wide grin. “I’m afraid not, Agent Enigma. Our dentist friend, Mr Sizer, proved to be too much trouble and should right about now be parachuting into the darkest jungle in all of Peru.”
Milly O’Naire giggled.
“But let’s not let that spoil our evening,” continued Disgusto. He played a card with a picture of a man holding up a large glittering ruby. “Do you have Mrs Gem the jeweller’s wife?”
“I’m afraid not,” Fangs said. “But I do have Mr Cuffs the policeman.” He tossed the card down onto the green baize.
“Curses!” growled Disgusto. He hurled one of his own cards down on top of the policeman. On it was a picture of a young boy blowing a whistle and wielding a truncheon.
“Why, thank you,” said Fangs, sliding the card over to his side of the table. “I have a feeling you’ll be seeing the rest of the policeman’s family very soon.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Disgusto said. “In fact, as soon as— Argh!” He doubled over, clutching his stomach.
“I see the pressure of the game is getting to you,” said Fangs.
The Great Disgusto raised his head, a twisted expression of pain etched across his already hideous face. “Oh, this isn’t pressure. This just means my stomach agitator is ready to roll. Milly!”
At his command, Milly snatched up the earrings, money and sunglasses from the table. Disgusto, meanwhile, had dropped his trousers and spun round so his golden bottom was pointed straight at us.
But, this time, we were ready. Fangs and I each pulled out a gas mask. We were about to strap them over our faces when were grabbed from behind. The croupier had a tight grip on Fangs while my arms were pinned behind my back by the cocktail waitress. But that wasn’t the biggest surprise.
Everyone else in the casino – gamblers, card dealers, bar staff, even the manager – was wearing a gas mask.
“They can’t all be working for you,” I said to Disgusto.
“Of course not,” the Great Disgusto said as he and Milly pulled on gas masks of their own. “I simply promised to pay them handsomely if they all played along.”
“Well, it’s the only way the word handsome could be used around you,” said Fangs.
Disgusto’s smile fell away. “Good night, Agent Enigma,” he growled.
FART!
I came round to find myself dangling in the air. My arms and legs had been tied together and I was in total darkness. This was not good news.
I used my sensitive werewolf hearing to try and pick up clues as to where I was. I could hear people talking, their voices muffled. Then there was another sound. One I recognized. The clack, clack, clack of a tiny silver ball bouncing around a spinning roulette wheel. That meant I was still somewhere inside the casino.
Something moved beside me and I stiffened – until I heard a familiar groan. I tapped my blue tooth with my tongue and hissed into the tiny microphone embedded inside. “Fangs? Is that you?”
“It’s me. Where are we?”
Before I could reply, the room lit up. “I’ll tell you exactly where you are, Agent Enigma,” barked a voice from below. “You are in my clutches!”
I looked down. The Great Disgusto and Milly O’Naire were standing below us at the edge of a pool of water, and Fangs and I were dangling right above it!
Friday 0305 hours: Storeroom, Monte Carlo Casino, Monaco
“Disgusto!” snarled Fangs.
“How delightful to see you again, Agent Enigma.”
“Well, we decided to hang around for a while,” Fangs quipped.
“Why not?” said the wizard. “Monte Carlo suits you. I can see you both making a big splash here.”
We eyed the pool beneath us. Something was swimming around in it. “What’s in the water?” I asked.
“Piranha fish!” Disgusto announced with glee, pulling a raw chicken leg from his trouser pocket and dropping it into the pool. Instantly, the surface of the water was churned into froth as the hungry piranhas fought to devour the treat. Within seconds, the water had calmed again, and a piece of pure white bone floated to the surface.
“Enthusiastic little chaps, aren’t they?” said Disgusto. “Such a shame Milly and I won’t be here to watch you meet them.” He strode over to where the rope holding us up in the air was tied to a metal hook in the wall. Below the rope was a wooden crate, on which was sat a single candle. As we watched, the Great Disgusto struck a match and lit the candle.
“The flame will burn slowly through the rope, eventually dropping the pair of you – still tied up – into the piranha-infested pool,” Disgusto said. “The water isn’t very deep, so I imagine you’ll hurt yourself quite badly in the fall, although that shouldn’t be a problem for very long.”
The candle flame flickered against the rope, sending up a thin stream of smoke. The rope was starting to burn already. Satisfied his plan was working, Disgusto took Milly’s hand in his and walked to the door.
“Wait!” shouted Fangs. “I won the card game.”
The Great Disgusto turned. “So?”
“You owe me information,” said Fangs.
There was a faint PING! as the first few threads of rope burned away. Fangs and I dropped a centimetre or two closer to the deadly water below.
“I suppose that’s fair,” said Disgusto.
“Careful, honey,” warned Milly. “Don’t tell them your idea.”
“Why not?” The wizard laughed. “They’ll be dead in ten minutes.”
PING!
Another few strands of the rope burned away, and we dropped another couple of centimetres. I hoped my boss knew what he was doing.
“After failing to turn my teeth gold, I could no longer sell them to raise money to buy my missile. I needed a new plan… Luckily, my golden bum provided the perfect one. With the money I’m stealing now, I can afford to buy enough missiles to threaten every parliament in the world. Then I can raise the ransom to a BILLION dollars per government!”
“Quite the retirement package,” I said.
“Silence!” yelled Disgusto, his voice echoing off the bare walls of the storeroom. “Don’t make me fart on the candle flame and hasten your inevitable demise.”
“That’s another thing,” said Fangs calmly – even though another PING! rang out and we dropped a little closer to our doom. “How do you knock people out with your bum?”
“That was my fault.” Milly O’Naire giggled. “After my darling turned his butt to gold, he felt rather unwell, so I went to make him a health shake…”
Disgusto grinned. “The poor dear took ingredients from my spell cupboard by mistake. I really shouldn’t have kept my magical supplies in the kitchen – although now I’m glad I did. You see, Milly accidentally stumbled upon the ingredients that, when combined and distilled through my golden bottom, produce a knockout gas.”
“I spent the best part of three days unconscious,” said Milly.
“And then Disgusto sent Zed and his other henchmen to buy up extra supplies of tigertop mushroom and tuba-tuba sap,” I said to Fangs. “Of course!”
Another PING! The rope had burned almost all of the way through. Our heads were very nearly touching the water.
“Well, I can see we’re keeping you from your grisly deaths, so we’ll bid you a final farewell,” said Disgusto. He led Milly out of the storeroom and closed the door.
I glanced down at the piranhas below us. “What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to catch them,” said Fangs, nodding at the door the Great Disgusto and Milly had just walked though. “Copy me!” Then he swung his body out as far as he could. I did the same, and slowly we began to swing from side to side.
Operation: Golden Bum Page 4